


Shared Space

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9909209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: The age-old trope: There's only one room and only one bed. Can Mulder and Scully share?





	

One room.

As if this case hadn’t been bad enough, they only have one room left in this sad excuse of a motel. Scully pleads – she actually begs – to give them two rooms. There aren’t any left, she is told. Thanks to some conference. Scully grabs the key, hears the receptionist’s sing-song voice telling her to enjoy her stay, and stomps down the hall. A conference! Who would hold a conference in this one-horse-town?

She finds Mulder where she left him, namely outside. He’s munching on some sunflower seeds, noisily spitting out the shells. He grins at her before he shoots another shell through his lips. One that lands exactly in front of her feet. She looks down at it for a moment, sighs, and faces Mulder.

“So?” He asks, chewing slowly. With his dirty jeans, his even dustier shoes and his tight t-shirt he looks like a misplaced cowboy, or a farmhand. Maybe she should have sent Mulder in to ask for rooms. Even if he’d gotten the same answer, maybe they could have put him in the barn.

“One room.”

“For both of us?” Scully sighs heavily, hoping Mulder catches her mood.

“Scully?” Of course, he doesn’t.

“Yes, for both of us.”

“Well, let’s check it out. I want to go for a run before bed.” Mulder follows her like a puppy, telling her this and that. She catches a few words, but right now, she doesn’t care about inane chit chat. If Mulder is out running, she can take a shower, or even a bath, and maybe, just maybe retain some of her sanity.

Mulder is chattering like a monkey, passing between bathroom and bedroom. Having forgotten his t-shirt in his suitcase, he parades around half-naked and obviously not caring one bit. Scully finds herself looking up from the files in her hand, her eyes glued to his back muscles; poetry in motion,s he thinks, and immediately dismisses the thought. He turns around, his eyes one big question mark that she doesn’t see because her eyes wander to his chest, to his stomach. She’s losing herself there in the hidden promises that are hinted at in his sparse body hair, pointing down, down where she, under no circumstances, should gaze.

“Did you see it?”

“Hm? Mulder, what?”

“My shirt, Scully. Did you see my shirt?”

“I thought you were wearing… Mulder, I have no idea what you did with your shirt.” He mumbles something and returns to the bathroom. When he comes back out, he is wearing the shirt he’d been wearing earlier.

“You found it.” Scully says.

“No, I was looking for my other shirt. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be gone for like an hour, if that’s all right with you?”

“Mulder, I’m not your mother,” they both cringe at her words, “You can stay out as long as you want. Hey, which side do you sleep on?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, Scully.” The door squeaks as he opens it. The sound momentarily rips through the silence he’s leaving her with. She expects him to turn around and look at her, maybe give her a smile, anything. He doesn’t, though, and then the door closes and he’s gone.

A moment later, Scully no longer cares. She throws the files across the bed, where Mulder will sleep later, but that’s something she’s not thinking about. Not yet. She quickly grabs her pajamas and goes into the bathroom. It’s tiny, of course, and only has a shower; so no bath. Scully takes a hot, scalding shower and washes off the remnants of this case, of this town. She closes her eyes, dreams of her own apartment, of sliding into her bathtub, and suddenly it all disappears before her eyes and there’s just Mulder. Not wearing a shirt. Scully’s eyes open wide, the daydream away from her and is washed away. At least for now.

Mulder isn’t back when Scully emerges from the bathroom. Good, she thinks. She settles on the bed, which seems big enough for the two of them, and reaches for the files again. If only she could concentrate on the case, or really anything that’s not Mulder’s chest. Sighing, she puts the files on the bedside table. Afraid that Mulder might hurt himself if she turns off all the lights, she leaves the one in the bathroom on. Scully cuddles under soft blanket and despite thinking that she isn’t all that tired, she finds herself drifting off.

The mattress dips, and Scully almost wakes up; until she remembers. Mulder. One room. One bed. She breathes in deeply, her thoughts turning foggy, and then Mulder starts squirming. She ignores it. She can ignore it in a small car, sitting next to him on a plane, so clearly she can ignore it now, sleeping next to him. Except he doesn’t stop. Scully feels him close to her back, his breath against her neck for a short moment, and she gasps. He doesn’t hear her, though, because he’s already throwing himself around again.

Scully, now fully awake – thank you very much, Mulder – pretends not to notice the human bouncing ball next to her. And then he slaps her ass.

“Mulder!”

“Sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to touch your – to slap your – I’m sorry, Scully.”

“It’s fine, just… quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!” The blanket doesn’t cover all of Mulder. Actually, it hardly covers anything. Even in the dim light, Scully can make out naked, hairy legs. And there it is again: Mulder’s naked chest. Scully feels herself blush – at least there’s not enough light for Mulder so see – and unable to tear her eyes away.

“Are you naked? Mulder, why are you naked?” She screeches against his chest. Scully wants to look into his eyes, she really does, but her brain doesn’t cooperate. Maybe that part of her anatomy is still asleep after all.

“There’s an explanation for that.”

“And are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?”

“Remember when I was looking for my t-shirt earlier? Turns out that isn’t the only thing missing.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I have no spare clothes. I washed my uhm, underwear and put it up to dry in the bathroom. I figured wearing clean clothes tomorrow was more important than wearing anything in bed.” Scully is silent; he is making sense, damn it. But does she want to sleep with a naked Mulder?

“Well… at least stop moving around. I am trying to sleep.”

“Got it. Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

He does stop moving. Scully, however, can’t fall back asleep. After a while, she is certain that Mulder is asleep. She turns around, lies on her stomach and watches him sleep. His breathing is deep, even. His lashes caress his cheeks and Scully wishes she could do the same. Her fingers twitch, thinking about it, and it takes all her willpower not to touch him there. That is until her eyes land on his chest again. She tells herself that this is normal; she is a doctor, after all, and she’s making sure he’s breathing. Yeah, right.

This time her willpower loses against her deepest desires. Her hand reaches out, slowly, and she has to stop herself from moaning when her fingertips come in contact with his soft, warm chest. She twirls her finger through the small patch of hair and suddenly there’s his nipple. He squirms without waking up and Scully freezes, lies there stock still. Her breathing is ragged, either from almost being discovered or from the act itself, she can’t be sure. She also can’t stop. The nipple comes erect under her touch and she wonders what the situation is like further down. She knows her thoughts are going down, too, and that it’s a dangerous road. But her hand is following the same path, happily. It’s warm under the blanket; she doesn’t dare take it off him, in case he wakes up. Her hand wanders quickly, assertively passing his ribs, passing his navel. Her breath hitches when her hand brushes his penis. Rock hard, proding against her, seemingly jumping at her.  

She should stop. She should definitely stop. The message, however, gets lost somewhere and never reaches its destination. Instead her hand wraps around his length and he groans.

“Scully?” His voice is deep, deeper than she’s ever heard it. She can’t face him, not now, so she keeps going. Stroking him gently at first, he arches against her, needing more and frankly, so does she. So she speeds up, encouraged by Mulder’s soft moans, until he starts thrusting into her hand.

“St-stop, Scully.” More a groan than actual words, but she hears him loud and clear. She slows down, but doesn’t stop. Not yet.

“You want me to stop? Really, Mulder?”

“Not like – not like this.” Scully chuckles , but a moment later she gasps as her hand flies off his cock. Mulder tackles her, pushes her on her back, and suddenly he is over her. His chest teasing her nipples through her way too thin pajama top, but they’re not close enough, not yet. Mulder grabs the hem of her top and together they manage to get it over her head. Scully arches her back and finally she feels it, feels him; her nipples scrape against his chest and she moans.

“Like this.” Mulder mumbles and she can’t answer, because whatever she was going to say, or not say, he swallows with his mouth and his tongue. His hand reaches between them, finds her nipple and twists it, stealing the groan from her lips. He repeats the action for the other nipple before his hand continues downwards. Her erect nipples strain against his chest and she should have known it would feel like this right away. Earlier, when she watched him. She knew watching would be a bad idea. But this, this feels just right.

Scully bites into his button lip, hard, when his hand sneaks into her panties and finds her clit. He groans against her, most likely from the pain she’s inflicting on him, but how could she care right now? His fingers circle around her, move urgently, perfectly. He finds the right rhythm, the right touches as if this were the hundredth time they’re making love; not the first.

Her nails scrape across his back, marking him as hers. How did this start? Scully wonders briefly, before all thoughts abandon her. Mulder has taken off her panties, the last barrier between them. For a moment, he is quiet. He is looking at her, admiring her body, and if it were any other man Scully might feel exposed. Not with Mulder. But the moment passes and the desperation doesn’t.

“Mulder…” She purrs and it’s enough for him to snap back to reality. His fingers trail her quivering thighs with feather light touches. He breathes against her swollen folds and Scully whimpers. As if on cue, his mouth descends on her, finally. Her hands grab a fistful of his hair, fingernails digging into his scalp, holding him there, begging him to use his mouth and his tongue. Mulder lets his tongue drag across her labia, making her shiver and groan, before he sucks her clit into his mouth. Two fingers slip into her and in combination with his tongue, she is at his mercy. Her orgasm starts deep within her belly, rumbling through her like thunder.

“Mulder, get up here.” Scully rasps, her walls still clenching around his fingers. Mulder draws them out and Scully hisses, feeling the loss immediately. But it’s only for a moment. He settles on top of her, reaches between them, and guides his cock into her wet tunnel. They both moan when he slides in.

“I’m not going to last.” Mulder warns her, thrusting deeply into her.

“Just let go, Mulder.” Scully tells him, her eyes fixated on his. She watches him; his cheek twitches, his eyelids flutter. His mouth slack, trying to find words for what is happening. Scully puts her hand on his neck, sweaty, hot, perfect, and drags him down to her. Their mouths meet messily, mimic their love making.

“Oh my god, Scully, I-” Mulder groans and Scully feels him grow bigger, throb heavily, before he finally spills inside of her.

“That was- Scully, that was-.” He mumbles into her neck. She gently strokes his back, feeling sated, and tired.

“I agree, Mulder, but can we sleep now? Please?” He raises his head, stares at her. He looks as tired as she feels. There’s a flicker of fear in his eyes and Scully gently runs her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t regret this. And yes, I want to do it again – soon,” he grins at her, “but Mulder, I’m really tired and we’ve got a long day tomorrow. So can we please just go to sleep?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He kisses her noisily before he settles beside her.

“Thank you.” Scully sighs, the smile never leaving her face. Finally, her eyes close, and just as she’s about to fall asleep again, he moves against her.

“So, Scully, how soon  _are_  we talking here?”


End file.
